Finally, after visiting with her since February, my oncologist turns to me and says, “I see you’re a writer.” Did I write ‘writer’ as my job description on my intake form? I could have written anything. Cat Grandma, Tour Guide, Sewist, Rapscallion, Gardener, Songster, but I guess I wrote Writer. Hmmm, it’s been so long, I don’t remember.

“What do you write about? I’d like to read something of yours,” she cozies up to me. We’ve had our moments, knotted eyes, coiled horns. We still don’t know how to relate to one another, but we keep trying and this was the first time she actually made a friendly move.

“I could write about this,” I say to her. 

“What do you mean this?” I wave my hand back and forth between the two of us and repeat, “This.” She seems confused. “What’s happening here,” I say.

“Oh, no, no, no!” She waves her hands as if trying to erase me, as usual. 

“My mom is a humorist,” interjects my daughter. “She writes funny stuff.”

“But she’s so serious,” says the doctor looking past me.

“Well that’s how it is with comedians,” continues my daughter, Lucy who wants to be called Lucille. Meanwhile, I’m flattered Lucille thinks I’m funny, and a comedian! However, she’s probably never read a single one of my columns. Lucille would be a better patient than me because my persistent questions scare my onco, not to death per se, but close enough.

Confessing to the trade of professional writer has the same impact as saying you’re a psychoanalyst. People tense up. Think they’re about to be examined, and with a writer, examined and then exposed in print. And I am apt to do that albeit without using anyone’s name, location, or other identifying information. Because you know who you are.

My column, The Mystery of the Missing UPS Box posted online 7/16/24, for example, was an open letter to a friend. It wasn’t mean, just a letter. But the friend recognized herself immediately, and even called me ‘on the carpet’ so to speak. 

I haven’t gotten back to her, yet. Right now there’s nothing more to say that I haven’t already said. Maybe she’ll subscribe to the paper. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll respond to her response. Maybe not. 

Speaking of the printed word: The other day, I attempted to post a comment on a Yahoo thread and got this series of returns:

“Awaiting review. All comments on the site require manual approval so nothing personal.” Yeah, right! Nothing personal.

“Certain comments are sent to an internal product performance review. It’s not you, it’s us.” Huh? Meaning, you’re going to review it, not me? Okiedokie! 

“Your comment has been automatically flagged as it may not align with our Community Guidelines.” Why didn’t you just say that upfront? 

“We let registered users know as soon as their comment has been reviewed.” I never heard back. 

My comment was basically one word, like everyone else who posted, that implied who I think will win the presidential election. Unlike some, however, I actually followed the Community Guidelines: “Be a good citizen and stay on topic.” 

And so, the pen being mightier than the sword stands true to this day. I’ve thought to keep it sheathed, but no, as long as we have freedom of speech and I’m not yelling fire nor exposing anyone by name, I shall carry on wielding it. After all, I’ve survived the slings and arrows of many, and it’s only humbled me, and at the same time, made me a bit tougher. 

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.